A horrible thing happened today.

I came home from work/slavery (there's a story to save for later), and after dinner, while I was washing the dishes, my dad picked up a pile of papers from the kitchen table and asked "So when did you write this?"

Instantly, my mind was racing, trying to remember what I've written recently. I looked at my mother's face for a clue. She was holding four aces and not showing it.

I thought to myself "Shit, now what do I do?"

So I asked my dad what he was holding. They explained that they had found it lying around, it's a story I wrote for school. Of course, I'm wondering which one it is. Sometimes the parents don't fair too well when their kids tell stories. However, this turned out okay. It was the story I handed in last week for the "family incident" assignment.

My dad said that my mother laughed to herself while she read through it. No, he said "giggled", and she immediately got pissed because Marian does not giggle; that would be childish. I was glad that she enjoyed the story. I'm not going to go into the details because I want to see if everyone in class can tell this time that I wrote it. We'll see.

She's in the kitchen right now laughing as she reads it the third time. I guess that we needed this break. Tomorrow is my cousin's service and my dad is going for back surgery on Thursday. The fun assignment I got earlier this week at the magazine listed dramatically into the danger zone, but I managed to get it upright by the end of the day. I hope that it stays that way. I'm writing health tips for the alive calendar which will go out to customers and clients next year. My name probably won't be on it, but it will be something different to put in my portfolio.

She's reading James' travel story from last week. I thought that she would be laughing more.